Beworat atc Bellefonte, Pa., October 3, 1902. “THE CRADLERS.” The golden wheat stands like a wall— A twenty-acre field. The brawny cradlers—five in all— Bare-breasted, hairy-armed and tall, “Allow that patch much yield;’’ There ‘“‘grape vines” o’er their shoulders swung With fingers crookt, and broad blades hung, Like falchions backward steeled. Like sons of Anak in their might, They whet their shining blades, Then to the charge—a thrilling sight— Leads up the first, swings to the right Left sweep, through cereal glades, The shorn stems on the fingers laugh, Fat kernels peep though bursting chaft’ On heads gone to the shades. Another, and another sweep— The second man stands in, So waits the third, in-cutting deep. Then fourth and fifth at distance keep, The same, ere they begin; Now all with mighty, rhythmic swing, Advance, and then their broad blades ring, And gleam like burnished tin. Five crescents gap the grain a-near As the five blades swing home, Five golden gavels fall a-rear, And five line-butted swaths appear. Lain each inside its comb, As the five mighty reapers sway, From side to side in stant array, Like gulls o’er ocean’s foam. So, all day long, thro’ rising morn, And midday’s shimmering heat, The swish of severing scythes is borne, Or whetstones chanting to the corn, The death song of the wheat, Only the noon-tide dinner call, Awhile brings truce, and rest to all— A lull before defeat. Hot, round and red in western sky, Sinks low the summer sun; And still the swinging cradles sigh, While al! around the fallen lie In sheaves, the fight near won; Then binders all, and cradlers join, And shock the sheaves, and clap. and groin— The day—the task is done. THE AMBITION OF SANDY MACIL- HENNEY. After mentioning that last name it seems like rank waste of time to say his first name was Sandy. He couldn’t help it ; his par- ents couldn’t help it ; no one could help it; one name follows the other naturally. Well, then, being Sandy MacIlhenney, of course he was Scotch. I mention it for mere form’s sake, as you knew it before hand, just as you knew what his first name was. But, fortunately for us all, he had lived in America so many years that he had lost or thrown away his dialect, and the only thing in his speech that could suggest his native heath was the marked preference for the letter ‘‘a’”’ instead of ‘i’? in whisky (and I think myself “‘whuskey’’ has a more filling sound) and a b’r’r’r to his ‘1's,’ as though a very large bumble bee were blundering about the end of his broad tongue and then bumping back to the roof of his mouth. Poor MacIlhenney’s life was a tragedy, and yet it was played to the very last act, to an accompaniment of jeers and laughter —not malicious, not bitter, but simple thoughtless laughter. A description of his personal appearance might, I think, go a good way toward ex- plaining the cause of the general laughter. Had he been simply ugly, all had been— well—there’s nothing injurious in ugliness; it may even be a power. He was worse than that. In our English lauguage there is a word that may have been created at the very moment of Sandy’s birth for the express use of those wishing to describe him perfectly but briefly—that word is ‘‘grotes- que.” He was tall, very tall, with a sudden rounding droop of the shoulders that gave him the look of a button hook or interroga- tion point, while his thickness through the body was about that of a choice salt cod- fish. Ifhe was furnished with the usual number of internal organs they must have been pressed like autumn leaves in a dic- tionary, or else he did not wear them all at one time, go thin he was. Then he was the only tall man I ever saw pacing through dife on bowed legs. No, not knocked kneed. Sandy's legs were bowed to a roundness that let one see.at a glance just how a pic- ture of certain portions of the landscape would look in a perfectly round frame. No man on earth could command respect while standing on a pair of legs like Sandy’s un- less they were concealed beneath the pro- tecting petticoat of Church or college. He had very high cheek bones, across which the skin was drawn so tightly that they looked like a pair of unexpected - knuckles. His chin was long and straight, without the slightest indentation or curve about it. His nose shared in the general lengthiness and was thin and pointed. Each small greenish blue eye turned in- wardly and gazed with fixed resentment at the intervening bridge that seemed to be crowding them. : Poor man! In no limb, no feature had he been spared, so that the final touch of coarse ugliness was found in the shining baldness of the top of his head and the lit. tle flounces of brick red hair with which he seemed to be modestly trying to cover its startling nudity. With such a body to dwell in one ean hardly wonder that his mind shonld be- come distorted and develop in only one di- rection, as it were. And such a direction ! For the ambition of - MaclIlhenney—this poor, cross eyed, how legged Scotchman, of the lower laboring class, this excellent cut ter of stone—was to be the greatest tragic actor of his day. Nor was hisambition of the mere “I wish I were,” or “I would like to be’’ order 3 it was a devouring passion, ; A strong word, ‘‘devouring,’’ but since Webster says it means, among other things, ‘to consume ravenously, to prey upon, to swallow up, to appropriate greedily,” it is the right word, for his mad ambition, even in its beginning, appropriated greedily-all his small savings, all his spare time, It consumed his sense of duty toward his wife; he ‘had no sense of the ridiculous to con- sume. It preyed upon his heart as wall as his mind, and finally it swallowed up his very life. 1 I Many of the old acting plays he knew by ‘heart, had memorized literally from cover to cover, while his knowledge of Shakes- ‘pear’s nnacted plays was greater than most ‘actors’ knowledge of the acting ones. Quite ‘daturally lie was given over to the habit of “quoting, in'séason and out of season, and “16 was an indulgence in this Habit that . brought the stonecutter into touch with the actors of the city. ! There. was a saloon not far from the thea- tre, and MacIlhenney, being at work near by, went in one noon for his midday meal, There was a party of actors there eagerly discussing the morning news of the death of one of their profession—a very well known and successful actor. Now, as they all knew one of this party had been the envious enemy of the dead man, they were astonished to see him assuming deep grief instead of a respectful silence. There was a great pulling of mustaches and exchanging of glances, but no one re- plied and the hypocrite burst out again, first with fulsome praise and then with ex- aggerated expressions of sorrow. The last word was barely spoken when a voice with a burr in it gravely and most distinctly re- marked : ‘‘ ‘The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow !"?? There was an instant of surprised silence, in which every one recognized the exquisite fitness of the quotation, and then a roar of laughter — another and another. Many beers were thrust upon the Scotch stonecut- ter who knew his Shakespeare so well, and —and, oh, poor Macllhenney ! Straight- way he neglected his work—he loitered too long at his nooning. He could not tear himself away from the actors, who listened to his quotations and laughed at his antics as children might laugh at the capers of a monkey. But MacIlhenney left them with a wild gleam in his poor cross eyes, with jumping, twitching muscles about his thin lips, fairly drunk with excitement. It was on one of these occasions that he saw his landlord ahead of him in the public street—a rotund little person who seemed to have had one story left off when he was built. He knew it, too, and tried with piled up dignity and a high silk hat to make up the missing height. And it was to this dignified, black coated slow moving old gentlenian that MacIlhenney roared : ‘‘ ‘Tarn, hell hound, turn! ‘Tarn, I say ! I want to hand you my month’s rent and save a trip to your house tomorrow !”’ That was one of his out of season quota- tions, for the dignified old party was no hell-bound, but MacIlhenney had just been discussing Macbeth and showing how pcor- ly Mr. Booth understood that character,ad- mitsing that the ‘‘laddie did his best and meant well.” Still he (MacIlhenney) was the one living man who had got inside the part. Weil along 1n the season one of the act- ors was to take a benefit, and as he was not much of a favorite with the public he was greatly worried about arranging an attract- ive bill. A couple of weeks befere at the leading man’s benefit there had been sever- al volunteers, among them the manager's young daughter, who sang for him, and in MacIlhenney’s presence the worried actor was mourning because there was no one to volunteer to assist him, when up rose Mac- Ilhenny and offered Ais services. Those who were farthest away writhed in quiet laughter, while those who were near him suffered silently. In that silence the stonecutter read dread of a rival, and he hastened to dispel all anxiety hy saying soothingly : ‘“Don’t misunderstand me, young man. You have nothing to fear. I don’t ask to ‘play’ a part in your play— since the public could then have neither eye or ear for any man but me—and I’d not ex- tinguish any one’s light on his benefit—but I'll doa recitation or a reading—so ‘Put money in thy purse, Cassio’ and not in- jure your standing as an actor.’ It was a trying moment. They liked the funny old chap and did not wish to hurt his feelings—bust, good heavens! the idea of turning him loose before an audience! Again came the voice of MacIlhenney, with the inevitable quotation: ‘‘Why whisper you, and answer not, my lords?’ ”? A laugh followed, and the tormented actor asked : ‘‘Well, Sandy man, what on earth do you purpose to read or recite?” “Why,” answered he,” since you will be doing a tragedy, and I have no wish to outshine you in any way, I'll just give them the trial scene from ‘Pickwick.’ ?’ Through the storm of merriment that followed one or two voices cried : “‘Let him doit ; let himdo it! It will be great!” and just then at the glass door of the saloon a tall, gaunt woman appeared. She was one of that body of black bombazine woman who are never ragged, but are always rusty; who all appear of the same age, as they all seem to have passed with reluctant feet their fif- tieth birthday. She tapped with a black cotton forefinger on the glass, and Macll- henney went to her at once and spoke with her a few moments. And one exclaimed: ‘ ‘The Two Dro- mios I?’ For indeed had it not been for her straight eyes she might have been San- dy’s twin. When he returned some one said, ‘‘Your wife, MacIlheuney 2’? ‘*Aye,’’ ‘he said, ‘‘aye, and thongh I don’t claim she’s a beauty, yet ‘Ill give no blemish to her honor—none?’ *’ At which they howled with delight, and when they were tired of pounding one an- other the voice rose again: ‘Let him go on! Oh, let him go on !"’ and another add- ed, ‘‘Yes, let him on, just to see how many he’ll kill before he gets off again !”? And so it happened that Sandy Macll- henney, stonecutter, by the grace of God, became by the crnel whim of man, an act- or, and was duly announced on the benefit ul» read the trial scene from ¢‘Pick- wick. Alas! “whom the gods would destroy they first make mad !’’ It is a very ancient promise, and so truly was it kept with this fatal night that was the beginning of the end for him, poor MacIlhenney saw the ra- diant dawn of asuperb success. The night came, and a fairly good sized audience was present. Sandy’s reading was placed be- tween the first and second plays, and a more ludicrous figure never appeared before the puble. By some mysterious process he bad forced his widely bowed legs into a “pair of very narrow, straight cut trousers. They were of an unsympathetic nature,and as he. wore low cut shoes they basely he- trayed about two inches of white, woman- ish looking stockings, thus giving a strong suggestion of impropriety to his whole makeup, His ‘‘wes’cut,’’ as he called it, he had brought, as he proudly declared, from Scot- land, and the actors as with one voice had cried, "‘It looks the part, Sandy ; it looks it 1” It was a short waisted, low necked vest of a plaid (of course) of red and green and blue and yellow, and the greatest of these was red, and 1t was velvet, and it had two crowded rows of shining brass buttons. With quite unnecessary candor his shirt proclaimed, through dragging wrinkle and straggling band, that it was of domestic manufacture, while an ancient black satin stock nearly choked the life out of him. And his hair—oh, Sandy ! Sandy !--his wife had surfed it on a very small iron, and had ther drawn the comb through it, thus set- ting if aflying in a wild, red fuzz, on whose edges the gaslight glittered, until he looked like some absurd old “saint with his halo falling off backward. As this figure of fun appeared there was a ripple of laughter, and in a few minutes —in the expressive slang of today—the au- dience’ was ‘‘on?’ to ‘him. The laughter grew and grew, and then the strange strain of cruelty that has come down tous from their chosen victim that on the dark and | our ancient barbaric forefathers and is so much easier to arouse in a crowd than ina single individual was all alive. They thought they recognized a victim. and they rose to the occasion. They baited him ; they hombarded him with satirical ap- plause; they demanded certain passages over again; they addressed him as Mr. Buzluz, and they had just reached the point of throwing things when the reading ended. As Macllhenney had no sense of the ridio- nlous he could not distinguish the differ- ence between being laughed af and being laughed with, so it was all like fragrant in- cense to him, and he came off the stage, his crossed eyes blazing at the bridge of his nose, on each cheek bone a spot of scarlet and a burr on his tonguo that made his first words of triumph utterly incomprehensi- ble to those about him. Two of us there were who drew him aside, and, pitying him, spoke him fair and respectfully, but the others, meaning no harm, carrying on a jest, congratulated him extravagantly, and when he went out from the theatre that night the promise of the gods had been ful- filled, for MacIlhenney was literally mad. He never did another stroke of work. His kit of tools became a stranger to him. He touched chisel and mallet but once more, and that was when he pawned them that he might buy a play book and a little bread with which to quiet for a moment the two devils that tormented him, one goawing in his brain, the other at his stomach. In going to and from the theatre I passed the tiny three roomed cottage the Macll- henneys occupied, and morning and even- ing I could hear his high, rasping voice de- claiming, ranting, pouring forth pages of old plays, while through the window I could see him brandishing a poker for a sword and wildly rumpling his little flounce of red hair whenever he pronounced a curse— whether he was Lear or Richelieu or Sir Giles it mattered not; he dragged all curses from the roots of his thin red hair. Poor Mrs. Sandy had descended from her former state of bombazine, and was daily seen in black cotton going out to jobs of office cleaning and washing, so her neigh- bors told me. And once, when they miss- ed her comfortable blanket shawl, and no- iced that she shivered through the streets in an old Stella one which was a creation of thin cashmere meant for summer only, they rashly spoke the sympathy they felt and their condemnation of MacIlhenney’s course. It was the first time and likewise it was every other time, including the last time. they so presumed. She listened in stony silence, and then, with bitter pride and icy resentment in every look and word, she de- manded, ‘‘What else shall my man do! Is it for the likes of him to be pounding stone forever, and he the finest actor chap in all the world today ?”’ Now Mrs. MacIlhenney was a Presbyte- rian of a blueness like unto indigo and of a narrowness inconceivable, who had neverin her life entered a theatre, therefore it was natural that one of the surprised women should ask, ‘But how do ye know that?” and she made answer—O loving, loyal, old Scottish wife !—with withering scorn and conviction, ‘‘Why, has the man nae telled me so hissel’?’’ and so went her hard way. For many weeks MacIlhenney had made the manager’slife a burden to him—asking praying, demanding an engagement. ‘‘Why man,’’ he would say, ‘‘did ye not see the public at my very feet! Did ye not hear their acclamations, and ye know right well that in the absence of garlands and flowers they would have tossed to me anything their hands came upon ? What are ye ’fraid of ?—the enmity of your wee bit stars ? I’ll see that you suffer no loss!’ Then steady disappointment told upon him. His temper began to change; he grew sullen, suspicious, and began to tell strange tales of being followed at night by certain actors—generally stars. No man could call Sandy Macllhenney a sponge or a beat. When he reached the point when he could not extend a general invitation to those present to drink he ceased to share the gen- eral invitation of others,and when he could no longer pay his own footing he no longer entered the saloon, but loitered outside to talk to the actors. Imagining things were not well with him, the actor for whom MacIlhenney had read asked bim to accept some payment, but with ever ready quotation Sandy refus- ed, gravely repeating, ‘* ‘There’s none can truly say he gives, if he receives.’ ?? Then even the outside visits grew far apart, and through my passing of his door I was the only one who knew anything of him, and I knew so little, dear heaven ! so little !—only that he studied, rehearsed,de- claimed ! Idid not know how many, many days passed without bringing Mrs. Sandy any job of work, and their pride sealed lips made no complaint. The old Scotch couple were not unlike a pair of sharp old razors, perfectly harmless if left alone in their own case, but very unsafe things for general handling. And so in the midst of plenty they suffered the pangs, the gnawing pangs of hunger for weary days and wearier nights, and no one knew ! ; One springlike day as I passed the cot- tage, the window being raised, I heard Mac Ilhenney’s voice at’ some distance, and rec- ognized the lines of Wolsey in ‘‘Henry VIIL.”” : * ‘Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served—served—" "7 He stopped—so did I. Some change in his ‘voice held me. What was it? It was weak and husky, to be sure, but there was something else —some force, some thrill, some strange quality. Again the voice rose : ‘‘ ‘Had I but serv- ed by God with half the zeal I served—-"’ * Almost unconsciously I gave the words, ‘‘ ‘My king,” ’ and he, without even turn- ing his face, took it up, saying, ‘‘Aye, aye, ‘my king. he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies!” ”’ and he laughed. As I hurried on in all my nerves there was a creeping fear, for in his voice I had felt the oh difference between ranting and raving—had felt the man was mad. And that very morning an actor mentioned him, saying he had seen him in liguor. ‘Oh, no,”’ I answered, ‘‘MacIlhenney nev- er drinks!” ‘“Well,”’ insisted the actor, ‘when a man staggers in his walk "and talks to himself on the public street it looks as if he had been drinking too much rye.’’ And another, standing by, laughingly said, ‘Perhaps the old chap has been eat- ing too little instead of drinking too much.’ : Such'cruel truths are sometimes said in jest. A few days later, having only ‘to ap- pear in the farce, I was quite late in going to the theatre, and as I neared the cottage Isaw lamplight streaming from its win- dow, and heard Sandy reciting as usual. But there was some other noise. His words, too, came in gasps, and I said to myself, “Why that sounds exactly like two men rehearsing the combat scene of Richard or Macheth.”’ The cottage was flush with the sidewalk, and as I came opposite the window I could not help looking in, and there I stood and stared, for in the centre of the room old Sandy and his wife were struggling desper- ately for the possession of a hatchet which he held. “Sandy ! Sandy !’’ she cried. And all the time Macbeth’s lines poured from his lips, ‘‘ ‘They have tied me toa stake I’ ** Almost he wrenched himself free from her : ‘‘‘I cannot fly, hut hear like, I must fight the conrse 1’ At that moment his wife tore the hatchet from his hand and flung it across the room. He plunged forward to recover it, but in a twinkling she had a grip upon his arms just above each elbow, and the next moment she had shoved him into the chair close to the window, and leaning over him, in spite of his writhings, held him tight. She must have felt my gaze, for sudden- ly she turned her whitz face and saw me. Into her eyes there came both fear and fu- rious anger, and then without loosing her hold for one moment on Sandy’s arms she thrust her face forward and catching the shade between her ‘teeth she fiercely drag- ged it down. And though the rebuff was sharp as a blow in the face, yet for a mo- ment more I stood staring, and saw on the white shade a black shadow woman bend- ing over and holding fast a shadow man, and as a kaleidoscope responds to a couch, at a single movement these shadows blurr- ed, parted, joined again, and this time, though she still held him close, the shadow woman was on her knees and her head was on the breast of the shadow wan. And ashamed to have watched so long I hurried away and said to myself, ‘“To-mor- row I will go there, and sharp words shall not drive me away until I learn by what route help can reach them.’ Next day Istood and rapped and rapped, but no one answered to my rapping. The house was very quiet, the room seemed empty, but when I carefully looked I saw a little smoke rising from the chimney. The following day the shade was down ; I saw no smoke, but I was obstinate, and I went around to the back door and knocked there, and was instantly met by a white- faced fury. ‘‘So,’” she cried, ‘‘you have come to spy for them. Well, take them the news— their work is done! They have no one now to fear—he’s gone!—he that was greater than them all. Come!” She drag- ged me by main force to the bed room door and into the room. ‘‘See for yoursel’ how he lies there, dead of slow starvation !’’ One forced glance I gave at the long, rig- id outline on the bed, but even that forced glance caught, mockingly peeping from under the dead man’s pillow, a yellow cov- ered play book. Wrenching myself away from the sight, I turned and putting my arms about the trembling old body I held ler close and said : “*Oh, you poor wife ! you poor wife !”’ She stood within my circling arms quite still for a instant ; then suddenly her hard face broke into convulsive weeping. She thrust me from her, gasping: “Don’t, don’t! Isay!” and fled to him, while I rushed from the house bearing my ill news. Every one was shocked and one was wounded—that Sandy had not asked his help. He did not understand the sturdy pride of the old pair who accepted nothing they had not earned, and asked of the world but one thing, and that was a decent privacy in which to suffer. Three of the actors went at once to the house, the one who had felt hurt, a gentle, kindly soul, acting as spokesman. They offered help to her and burial for Sandy, but they were met with such invective and imprecation as fairly stunned them, and though by their secret help they later on saved poor MaclIlhenney from the Potter’s Field they were compelled to heat a retreat before his frenzied widow. With bitter sarcasm she invited one to enter and ‘bring a brush and see if he could find in that house one crumb of bread.’”’. She told them exactly ‘‘how many weeks a man could live on a kit of tools pawned one by one ;"’ she reviled them as. ‘‘thieves’’ for stealing her husband’s ‘‘great thoughts and ideas of acting ;’ jeered at them for ‘‘cowards’’ that they had not ‘‘dared to stab him,’’ though they had dog- ged his steps many a dark night; hailed them as ‘‘hypocrites,’’ because they hid their joy, and, pretending grief, came here and offered ‘‘decent burial,” and as they slowly withdrew she stood upon her door- step and called after them, ‘‘Hypocrites ! hypocrites ! you starved him to slow death —and he was broken hearted.” The words seemed to catch her own ear. She paused; slowly sbe repeated, ‘‘Broken- hearted !”’ Then suddenly she caught the clue and flung her gaunt arms wide. She lifted her tortured eyes to the sky, and with a bitter triumph cried: “But ‘a brok- en and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.’’ : ! And hearing that splendid declaration that so thrills with hope, those who all un- intentionally worked her woe bowed their heads and breathed a quick Amen !—By Clara Morris in The Cosmopolitan for Sep- tember. Rich Gift for Theology. Princeton Seminary’s Winthrop Bequest May Amount to a Million. An officer of Princeton Theological seminary has given out the information that the bequests by the late Mrs. Win- thrope, of New York city, will amount to very much more than $500,000, the esti- mate put on it at first. Itis he said, im- possible now to determine the exact amount of the bequest, on account of the unsettled condition of the estate, but it is definitely known that it will exceed $1,- 000,000 and may possibly amount to $1,- 500,000. : In addition, the seminary officers an- nounce that $100,000 has been raised to found a chair in Semitie languages. The endowment was raised by subscriptions. The new funds will be used, it is said, in enlarging the library facilities, in im- proving the dormitory accommodations, in adding advanced courses to the several de- partments -and in strengthening the corps of instructors. Now that former President Patton, of the university, has consented to accept the presidency and the endowment fund bas been so largely increased, it is believed that the seminary will resume its foremost position among similar institutions in the country. Dry Days im Chile. No Rain Has Fallen There in the Last Three Years. The British steamer Pretoria, from Toco- pilla, Pisaqua and Caleta Buenas, Chile, is discharging a big shipment of nitrate of soda at Lombard street wharf: The cargo will be largely used by powder manufact- urers in the United States. When the Pre- toria left Tocopilla the country was very dry,there having been no rain for the last three years. Things were different when she reached the lower Chilean coast,an un- usually cold wave having spread over that ‘section of South America. "The Cordilléras were snow-clad to the base. Rather than risk the fierce storms in the Strait of Ma- gellan the Pretoria rounded Cape Horn. “Morally Insane.” District Attorney Jerome Says This 1s the Case With Young—Clues to Another Murder — Mrs. Feely Lured from a Flat and Killed—Fight For Life to Be Made In Court. A speedy trial for William Hooper Young accused of murdering Mrs. Anna Pulitzer, is predicted by District Attorney Jerome. The county prosecutor conside.s it possible to have Young in a death cell at Sing Sing within 30 days. A great battle of alienists will be fought before the grandson of Brigham Young goes to the electric chair. His father, the wealthy promoter,John W. Young, will re- turn from Paris within two weeks, and no expense will be spared to secure mental ex perts to demonstrate to the jury that vices and dissipation had so impaired Young’s mentality that he was irresponsiblé when he killed Mrs. Pulitzer. The district attor- ney declares that Young is only morally in- sane,and this will not protect him from re- sponsibility for his crime. Young’s confession, the evidence found in the trunk he shipped to Chicago, and sub- sequent investigation are declared by the police to reveal theaccused as a moral mon- ster. ‘‘He is one of the most depraved hu- man beings ever charged with crime in my experience, ’’ said Captain Titus. ‘‘The ev idence against him is so revolting that it cannot be hinted at except in the trial room.’’ The Mormon doctrine of blood atonement may figure in the trial if Young’s mother is brought to New York to testify. She is now Mrs. William J. Milard, and ig visit- ing a brother in Philadelphia. Seen there she is quoted as saying : : ‘My son, of susceptible moral nature, inclined to evil, was driven to crime by Mormonism, which first made him an out- cast and a vagabond. The doctrine of ‘*blood atonement’ is a doctrine of the real Mormons. It was preached, practiced and sanctioned by the church during the life- time of Joseph Smith. “I do not know whether it was belief in. the doctrine of ‘‘blood atonement’ that caused my son to murder Mrs. Pulitzer or whether the church in Utah still believes in the doctrine. But it is a matter of rec- ord that Brigham Young and other leaders of the church in Utah publicly taught the doctrine.’”? When the first Mrs. Young, who was Miss Elizabeth Canfield, of a wealthy fam- ily, with their home at 1903 Brown street, Philadelphia, was divorced from her hus- band, she took the three girls and Mr. Young the two sons. ‘‘My husband was infatuated with his fitth wife,’’ she said. “There was no place for William in the home of the favorite wife and he was sent first toa cattle ranch own- ed by his father in Northern Arizona, and then was brought North again to work on the railway. He was then 17 or 18 years old. William Hooper was turned from his father’s employ,and when about 21 years old began a career of wandering. His pres ent condition is due to Mormonism,lack of good moral teaching and a weak nature.’’ TRACING A SIMILAR CRIME. The police are now trying to fasten an- other crime on Young. Police Captain Sehmittberger said : **I must admit that there are many ecir- cumstances which seemingly connect Hoop- er Young with the Feeley mystery. I am bard at work with the record of the Feel- ey case,and the bearings of it that point to- wards Young as the marderer. ‘There are strong points of resemblance between the descriptions of Young and the man who killed Mrs. Feeley. Both were dark, both were Westerners, both were the same height and age. The Feeley murder- er was described as a man of strong phy- sique, which Young is not, but it is known that not long ago Young,debilitated by his excesses, was a well set-up man,an athlete. Mrs. Feeley was lured from the flat of Mrs. Johanna Lucie, 154 West 17th street, whence she had addressed an advertisement for work, by a man who came there to get her to go around the corner to ‘‘attend his sick wife.”” She left the house to go to her death. Her head was never found. Captain Schmittberger regards the mutil- ation of the body in each case as an im- portant fact, possibly bearing out the the- ory that the murderer in each case may bave been afflicted with blood mania. A CLUE TO “‘EILING’’ FOUND. Detectives have succeeded in finding the store where Young purchased the trunk in which be took the body of Mrs. Pulitzer from his apartments to the Morris canal. In this investigation the police encounter- ed the first evidence that tends in any man- ner to indicate that there ever existed the “C. 8. Eiling’’ declared by Young to be the actual murderer of Mrs. Pulitzer. This is all the more remarkable hecause of the fact that in his confession Young admitted that he had purchased the trunk after ‘‘Eiling’’ had disappeared. The boy who delivered the trunk at Young’s rooms said that the man who pur- chased it and who walked with him when he took it home had no moustache. He gave a description which tallies more ex- actly with that given by Young of‘ ‘Eiling”’ than it does with the description of the man now under arrest. Something of a sensation was caused by the announcement that a man answering the description of “‘Eiling’’ had attempted suicide in the Mount Morris hotel,and that in his agony he had told a Harlem hospital surgeon he deserved death, which he hoped would come to him for the reason that it would save him from electrocution. The man gave the name of Charles Gannett. Detectives are now investigating this pecu- liar incident. CORONER'S INQUEST BEGINS. Coroner Parslow and a jury at the Hud- son county almshouse,at Jersey City, began an inquest into the death of Mrs. Pulitzer. Lawyer Hart was present to look after Young's interests,and the district attorney office was represented by C. H. Studin. Joseph J. Johnson, tender at the Hack- ensack river bridge, testified that he saw a buggy with a trunk fastened to the rear pass over the bridge Wednesday night of last week, when the body was thrown into the Morris canal. David Powell, motorman of a trolley car, testified that he saw the body in the canal the next afternoon,and sent word to the po- lice. Frank Newkirk,an employe at the morgue described the body and the iron weight fastened about the waist with a hitching strap. Charles K. Evans,a Hoboken liveryman, testified to hiring the buggy to Young,and to having identified the iron weight and straps as his property. ; There being no further witnesses present the inquiry was adjourned until October 8, when Coroner Parlow expects to have Jo- seph Pulitzer, the voman’s husband,and a numbe. of other important witnesses pres- ent. Young is a patient in the hospital ward of the Tomb’s prison. According to Dr. John Brown, the might physician in the .1 Tombs, he passed a good night. Dr. Brown said that when Young awoke at 6:45 o'clock he exclaimed : : ““This is the first night’s sleep I’ve had in a week.” The man was watched all night by two keepers. He has been supplied with some money by his counsel, Wm. F. S. Hart. Balloon Splits and Aeronaunt is Killed. The thirty thousand persons who attend- ed the fair of the county agricultural socie- ty at Taunton, Mass., on Wednesday saw Luis Girard, one of the aeronauts, fall to death. Oue ascension was made safely early in the afternoon by ‘‘Professor’’ Stafford alone Later a triple ascension by Professor and Mlle. Stafford and Girard, their assistant, was planned. No sooner had the balloon been freed, when it wasseen that something was wrong. The woman cus loose at once and did not leave the ground. The balloon shot up rapidly to a height of about four hundred feet, when Stafford’s parachute was seen to drop. It spread,and Stafford alight- ed safely. His parachute had barely left the baloon when the latter tore in halves and collapsed like a paper bag. There was a frantic mo- tion by Girard to cut his parachute loose, but the lines refused to pars. He fell to the earth like a shot, striking with awful force. He was unconscious when picked up, but died at the hospital. His spine was broken in two places. x Pitisburger Aids Boers. Simultaneously with the issue of an ap- peal to the civilized world by the Boer Generals at Amsterdam comes the state- ment that the Boer funds have received the enormous accession of $100,000, the gift of Henry Phipps, the well-known Pittsburg steel man. This subscription is four times the ag- gregate of the amount collected by the Dutch press, and, coupled with the gift of a similar amount on Saturday from Arthur White, another American, raises the Amer- ican subscriptions to nearly $250,000, . ° The manifesto of the Boer Generals, Botha, DeWet, and Delarey, says that hav- ing failed to induce Great Britain to grant further assistance it only remains for them to address themselves to the people of Europe and America. M. Reitz, formerly State Secretary of the Transvaal, announces that he will sail from England for New York to-day to address the American people on the Boer cause and speak against Secretary Chamberlain. He promises to publish later some sensational war documents. Calamity is Feared. All the Preachers Have Left Jamestown, Mercer County. A dispatch says there is considerable alarm felt at Jamestown, Mercer county, which is a place of five churches, and it is just now ministerless. Every preacher has left the place and the superstitions are be- ginning to fear some dire calamity. Such a state of affairs has not existed since the incorporation of the town. The Rev. R. A Buzza was recently transferred to Chicora by the M. E. conference. He delivered his ‘farewell sermon last Sunday. The Rev. S. Hunter, pastor of the Presbyterian church, left recently to accept a chaplaincy in the regular army. The Rev. Mr. Haddock, of the Baptist church, preached his farewell sermon and left last Moaday to take anoth- er charge,and the Rev. M. E. Jamieson has left the place on account of injuries receiv- ed when the church was partially wrecked by a cyclone last Easter. A New Kind of Passenger Car. The Burlington Puts Into Service Its New Style Parlor—Qbservation—Dining Cars. A pew style of passenger car has been in- troduced on the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad. It is a combination of parlor,dining and observation car and will be attached to the fast mail train, which leaves Chicago every morning for Omaha and the Northwest. The parlor is in the rear of the car. It is furnished with arm chairs, luxuriousiy upholstered, and opens onto the observation platform, which is sep- arated from the room by large plate glass windows. Two sleeping berthsare provid- ed for invalids. Off from the parlor is a comfortable smok- ing room, and toilet rooms for gentlemen and ladies. Beyond is the dining room, a charming affair, holding four tables. The kitchen and pantry are large and very com- plete. The cars are a distinct advance on anything of the kind yet used in this coun- try, and their use will add greatly to the comfort of passengers. Death from a Corn. Gangrene Followed Paring ‘a Troublesome Corn and Caused Death. Death caused directly from a corn on the little toe of his right foot, overtook Fidel Heitzman, of Shamokin, on Sunday. Al- though he had his foot amputated in an ef- fort to save his life,gangrene permeated, his body and he died after much suffering. Heitzman tried all sorts of cures and salves to remove the corn, which caused him much pain. Finally he commenced paring the corn, and from this gangrene developed. The disease soon affected his whole foot and in an endeavor to prevent it from spreading Dr. Raker last week amputated his foot above the ankle. But the disease had tak- en too firm a root,and it broke out at the knee. On Saturday it became evident that the whole body was affected, and Sunday death relieved the victim’s suffering. The deceased was sixty years old. An Autumn Arbor Day. State Superintendent Schaeffer Appoints it For Oct. 17th. Professor Schaeffer, state superintendent of public instruction, Wednesday issued an order instituting an autumn Arbor day,and fixing it for October 17th this year. Among ‘other things, Professor Schaeffer says: ‘‘Di- rectors, teachers and pupils of our public schools are requested to observe the day by planting trees and other suitable exercises. But, above all else, the pupils should "be taught by actual experience how to plant trees,how to promote their growth and how to protect them from noxious insects and other enemies.”’ : A Schoolboy’s Logic. Indifferent correspondents will sympa- thize with the lad who,after he had been at a boarding-school for a week without writ- ing to his parents penned the following let- ter: ‘‘Dear people—I am afraid I shall not be able to write often to you, because you see when anything is happening I haven’t time to write,and when nothing is happening there’s nothing to write about. So now,good-bye, from your Georgie.—Liv- erpool Post.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers